


Missed Connections

by geckoch



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 10:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18092585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoch/pseuds/geckoch
Summary: At the Epikegster, Bitty goes upstairs to put his phone away two minutes later.





	Missed Connections

“And lay off that fucking tub juice. It’s magically malicious.”

Bitty took a quick pit stop at the restroom, swung by the kitchen for some water (Lord knew he needed it), and finally headed for his room. He heard a door slam as he mounted the stairs but didn’t think much of it until he was half way up and just about crashed into Kent Parson.

“Lord, I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you alright?” He’d only meant after their near miss, but then he saw Parse’s face. 

“Yeah,” Parse was saying, “yeah, sorry, I wasn’t-“ he trailed off like he’d lost his train of thought before finishing “-wasn’t paying attention. My fault.”

Bitty didn’t know what had happened but Parse looked like he was about to honest to god cry, poor thing. Maybe a phone call, bad news from home? Or-

_It freaked me out! It was kinda like how Jack used to treat you._

Of course. And that would explain the door slamming, too. He and Jack had been getting along better but Bitty’d still spent all summer nerving himself up for a confrontation if Jack took after one of the frogs the way he had Bitty. Well. Turned it wasn’t the frogs he had to worry about.

“You can use my room, if you need a quiet spot to get away for a little,” Bitty said, careful to tamp down the “honey” that threatened to tack itself on. Parse had seemed sweet enough when they’d talked downstairs but, well, it paid to be careful. 

“Oh.” The dazed, just-took-a-bad-hit glaze lifted a little and Parse gave him a self deprecating smile. “That bad, huh?”

“You looked like you could use a minute, honey.” Bitty caught himself after he’d said it, but Parse just smiled.

“Thanks.”

Bitty pushed his untouched water into Parse’s hands and herded him in. “Here, come in and sit a spell. Oh, gosh-“

Realizing belatedly that the only chair for his company to sit in was under a pile of books - Good Lord, what would mama say? - Bitty rushed over to tidy up.

“Hey, it’s fine, you don’t need to-“

Bitty looked up to see that Parse, unfazed, had already sat on the edge of the bed instead. He had his hat in his hands, fidgeting with it and, Lord, Bitty wished he could do something to make him feel better.

“Do you want anything to eat? Little time to yourself? I could go.”

“No, it’s cool, stay. It’s your room, man.“ His voice was steady, but he was looking up higher than Aunt Judy trying not to ruin her face at a wedding. “Sweet poster,” he added, like that was why his eyes were on the ceiling.

Bitty looked up too. He wasn’t sure if Parse meant the Thrashers or Bey in her Aeros jersey. “Thanks.”

“Okay, who’d win in a fight? Beyoncé or Kate Smith?”

That was probably another old school reference he didn’t get (his vintage hockey knowledge fell off a cliff once you got past 1997) but that didn’t stop him from squawking out “ _Beyoncé!_ ” in shocked tones. How was that even in question?

“We should get a secret weapon too,” Parse mused. He was looking better, like some Jack free chit chat was just what he needed to compose himself. Bitty was glad to see it.

“You should,” Bitty agreed. “Who’s in Vegas?”

“Who-“ Parse spluttered, looking as scandalized as Bitty had. “Britney, bitch!”

Bitty burst into laughter, he couldn’t help it, and so did Parse. Once they got started they couldn’t seem to stop, until Parse was flopped on his back on the bed and Bitty sat beside him, both breathless and shaking with a seemingly incurable case of the giggles.

When they were finally running down, Parse pushed himself upright, hand landing ever so briefly on Bitty’s thigh on the way. It was nice, even if it was inadvertent. “You’re a good guy, Bits.”

“You too, hon.” Bitty gave him a mischievous smile. “I’ll root for you, when you ain’t playing Houston.”

With Parse feeling better things were winding to a close. They stood, they fistbumped, Bitty walked with Parse to the door, and Parse paused, hand on the doorknob. Bitty could see the tension that had drained out of him rushing back.

“Hey, uh, this is basically the most pathetic thing ever, but could you just-“

Bitty didn’t make him finish. He squeezed in front and cracked the door open for a few seconds to take a thorough peek. No Jack Zimmermanns, no nobody. “You got the hallway to yourself.”

“Thanks,” sighed Parse. 

Maybe it was the wrong move to bring it up, but Parse looked so goddamn low again and, well, maybe Bitty _wanted_ to say something, for his own sake. On a team where three quarters of the boys had been Jack’s friends before they’d ever set eyes on Bitty, it wasn’t like he could say it to anyone else. “Jack can be- I almost quit the team last year. I would’ve had to drop out. He can be really mean.”

“Well, I gave as good as I got this time.” Parse shook his head, eyes downcast. “Better, for once.”

“ _Good_ ,” Bitty said vehemently. 

Parse looked up at him, the surprise on his face melting quickly into something else that Bitty didn’t quite dare try to read. His hand rose to Bitty’s chin, tilting it up. Then he leaned down to kiss him.

It was an awfully sweet kiss, even with the doorknob digging into his hip. Bitty floundered for what to do with his hands, until he found Parse’s biceps and, Lord, that was nice. 

_Oh, honey, what are you thinking?_ Bitty didn’t harbor any delusions of getting mistaken for a straight boy, but that didn’t make this safe. For all Parse knew, he was the type to blab all over the internet about the hockey player he landed.

“I won’t tell,” he said between kisses, which was a little like telling a guy you'd already cream pied that you were clean. “You don’t need to worry about that, honey.”

“I know.”

They’d started drifting back towards the bed by then. Parse had a hand tangled in his hair and a hand on his hip, and Bitty wished he had the nerve to tell him he didn’t have to be such a gentleman, if he didn’t want to. 

God help him, he didn’t even know what to do with his own hands - he _wanted_ to get them on Parse’s body, but make-out etiquette was so far beyond him he was contenting himself with feeling those strong arms under his hands. 

Bitty didn’t realize how embarrassingly stiff and weird he must seem until Parse pulled back to look at him as they sat down on the bed. “You okay?”

“ _Very_ okay, Mr. Parson.” Bitty grinned nervously. “Just a little new. I don’t exactly have guys beating down my door, you know.”

“Really?” Parse sounded so genuinely shocked that Bitty burst out laughing.

“Oh, you _charmer_ , I gotta watch out for you.”

“No, really,” Parse protested, laughing too. “Like, I remember trying to figure out who was into dudes in juniors, right? It was the fucking worst. When we were talking downstairs, it was like, holy shit, this guy’s cracked the code. He’s gotta be getting hit on by like every closeted dude in college hockey, what a legend.”

Bitty fell back on the bed and dragged Parse down with him, positively howling with laughter. 

“Oh my god, please don’t die,” Parse laughed. “This looks way worse in the tabloids if you die.”

Laughing too hard to talk, Bitty slapped him on the chest, rolling along with it to bury his face in the crook of Parse’s neck. The warm, solid feel of Parse under him as they held each other and laughed themselves silly was just about Bitty’s idea of heaven. 

When he could finally breathe again, Bitty wiped his eyes and looked at Parse. He was all mussed from kissing and all pink from laughing, and so handsome Bitty couldn’t believe he was dreaming. He stretched for another kiss, relishing the feel of Parse’s muscles under his shirt. 

“Hey, Bits?” Parse kissed him again, hands landing on Bitty’s thighs this time as he helped him scoot up.

“Mm-hm?”

“Thanks. My night was really going to shit but, you know. This is really nice.”

Bitty felt a surge of tenderness for him. “Oh, honey, it’s nice for me too,” he said, and kissed him again. _Jack Zimmermann, how could you ever hurt this man?_

Now that his hands were already on Parse’s chest, Bitty wasn’t quite so shy. The way his muscles flexed when he pulled him closer by the thighs made Bitty moan into the kiss. He slid his hands over Parse’s pectorals, feeling hard nipples even through his shirt and undershirt. Parse’s muscles jumped under his hands.

“Oh Lord, Parser, honey, you’re so hot.”

“Hot for _you_ ,” Parse said, sliding his hands higher on Bitty’s thighs to squeeze. A couple residual giggles caught them both and they kissed and nuzzled their way through. 

Bitty went to work on Parse’s buttons quickly and carefully. His fingers faltered briefly on the third one down, missing already. That was a little... well. He might not know Parse that well yet personally, but he knew who the best dressed man at every NHL event since 2009 had been and it was hard to imagine him going out to a party and taking a million selfies while missing a button. 

He pushed that mystery away as he pushed Parse’s shirt open, and if he hesitated an extra moment with his fingers hooked under Parse’s undershirt, brushing his abs lightly while he waited for a happy moan to give him the go ahead, well, there wasn’t anything wrong with that. Humming appreciatively at the view, Bitty slid Parse’s undershirt up to his armpits, leaving his pecs framed by white cotton and his nipples peeking out, just about begging to be played with. Bitty bent his head, planting a couple kisses on Parse’s jaw on the way, and wrapped his lips around one.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Bits,” Parse moaned, one hand coming up to splay on the back of his head. “Fuck, that’s so good.” His other hand, the one creeping up to grab Bitty’s ass, urged Bitty’s hips down while Parse pressed a thigh between his legs. “Here, c’mon, you too.”

Bitty moaned around his nipple as Parse’s thigh met the bulge in his jeans. Parse was a three time Fastest Skater at All Stars and, sweet Mary, he was _built_ like it. He squeezed his thighs around Parse’s and rocked.

It wasn’t anything like rubbing off against a pillow. Parse was warm, and strong, and squirming under him, playing with his hair while Bitty sucked his nipples. The two of them were both sweating, Parse’s muscles slick under his hands, and Bitty couldn’t help but nuzzle his way to his armpit and mouth gently. 

“Oh, fuck,” Parse moaned, head pressing back against the pillow. He slipped a hand down between them to undo his flies, “Bits, can I-“

“Go on, honey, fuck-“ Bitty’s hips ground down hard “-fuck, Parser, honey, will you- will you do it on me?”

Parse turned his head to bury a cry in Bitty’s pillow. “Fuck, yeah, Bits, here-“ He grabbed Bitty’s shirt and tried to pull it off him. With a little cooperation, and some more laughter when Bitty got good and stuck and had to let Parse rescue him from his sleeves, Bitty was shirtless and laying flat against Parse to give him his abs to rub on. It was the perfect position to make out some more. 

Kissing Parse while he rocked made it even sweeter, and so did the slick, wet heat of Parse’s cock, twitching and needy against him. Parse hooked his fingers in Bitty’s belt loops and gave a playful tug. “Want me to?”

“Oh, honey, that’s sweet, but I’ll ruin your pants,” Bitty protested, but he still angled his hips to let Parse open his jeans. 

“I’m the stain _master_ , Bits.”

“Well, go on then,” Bitty laughed, nuzzling Parse’s cheek. His heart pounded as Parse’s warm, gentle hands opened his flies and slipped inside. With a soft little squeeze and a conspiratorial grin, Parse fished him out and ran his hands over Bitty’s hips, up his ribs, wrapping his arms around Bitty’s back and burying his hands in his hair. 

“Oh, honey.” Bitty brought his hands up to cup Parse’s cheeks while they made out and rubbed, rubbed, rubbed against each other. “Oh, Parser, sweetheart.”

Parse moaned against Bitty’s lips, holding him tighter. God, he was so wet, the tip was painting tracks on Bitty’s abs. “Bits.” His thigh pressed up harder against Bitty. “Ah, Bits, you feel so good.”

Necking and cuddling with his cock out and staining Parse’s jeans had to be the best thing he’d ever felt, filthy and tender and all around wonderful. 

“Honey, I ain’t gonna last,” he panted between kisses. And then, embarrassingly fast, came all over Parse’s thigh.

“Oh, fuck, Bits, that’s hot,” Parse moaned, reaching between them to stroke himself. “Keep kissing me?”

Bitty did. He kissed Parse deeply, one hand in his hair and one slipping down to tease and stroke Parse’s nipples. He’d never gotten anyone else off before, but he wanted more than anything to make it perfect. Going by the noise Parse made and the wet pulse of heat over Bitty’s belly, he didn’t do half bad.

They cuddled silently while they caught their breath. Bitty found he didn’t mind that he was getting sticky one bit, not when it came with the sweet, intimate sensation of Parse’s cock going soft against him. 

“You can stay if you want,” Bitty said, hoping he wasn’t overstepping just by suggesting it. “Lots of people do, after a Kegster, especially if they live off campus. It wouldn’t be suspicious.”

Parse hesitated a moment, chewing his lip. Bitty wondered if he was thinking about the possibility of running into Jack again, and resolved not to take it personally if Parse declined. Finally, Parse spoke. “I’d like that.” He smiled at Bitty. “I’d like that a lot.”

Heart embarrassingly aflutter, Bitty kissed his cheek. “Let me get us some washcloths, honey.” He pushed up off the bed, playfully smacking away Parse’s is overly tragic grabby hands. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.”

Parse sat too and threw an arm around him before he could escape. “Thanks, Bits.” He planted a big kiss on Bitty’s cheek and let him go. “I’ll get next time?”

“Deal.” Privately, his heart sang to hear the words “next time,” even if Parse was just being polite.

He wiped himself off with a T-shirt from the hamper, pulled on the faded old Thrashers sweater he used for winter pjs and checked himself over before remembering that he could just ask Parse. “Do I look decent?”

“Yeah, you’re fine. Wait.” Parse grinned. “Lemme make sure.” He turned to one side. “Okay, I’m walking down the street and I see you-“ he did a double take, pretending Bitty’d caught his eye, and tilted down an imaginary pair of sunglasses. “De-e- _cent_.”

Bitty snorted. “You are a menace, Mr. Parson.” He stole a quick kiss for the road, then headed towards the bathroom. 

He was wetting washcloths and humming under his breath when Jack walked in. Bitty stiffened, irrationally sure Jack could smell the sex on him as strongly as he smelled it himself. _Even if he does, you could have hooked up with anybody,_ Bitty told himself firmly. 

Jack gave him and his washcloths a brief, scrutinizing glance, then passed by without a word. _Hi, Bitty. Some party, Bitty. Turning in early too, eh, Bitty?_ Normally Bitty would just ignore it, say something to Jack first, but not tonight. He stared fixedly at the sink until he heard the shower turn on. Then he gathered up his washcloths and marched back to his room.

Before he opened the door, he glanced around the hall, just to be careful. Satisfied the coast was clear, he slipped inside. 

Parse was shirtless, hanging his jeans off the back of his chair, messy side up, when Bitty came in. 

“Here, hon.” Bitty wrapped his arms around him from behind, offering the washcloths, and laid his cheek against his back. 

“Thanks,” Parse said, snagging one of the cloths and setting to work on dabbing his jeans clean. Bitty stroked the other washcloth over Parse’s abs, where Bitty’d made a mess of him. Cleaning him up, feeling him up, it all felt so nice. 

“I’m really glad you kissed me,” Bitty said. He kissed Parse’s shoulder blade. 

“Me too.” Parse turned in his embrace to catch him in a big hug. All that warm skin felt nice, and Parse did have that undershirt he could put back on, but- 

“Are you gonna be cold, honey? I’m sure I got something comfy that’ll fit you.”

“Oh, uh.” Parse’s smile warmed him from the inside out. He looked so surprised to be taken care of. “Thanks, yeah. Thanks.”

Bitty kissed him on the nose. “Well, you go sit tight, honey, I’ll find something.”

He slipped out of his own jeans first, tossing them into the hamper and slipping into his own pj pants. He riffled through his drawers until he found a soft, flannel shirt that mama had bought him back in high school, before they’d realized his “to grow into” days were over. Pants weren’t so much of a problem - Parse wasn’t the only one built like a skater. They probably wouldn’t even be short, the way Bitty had to buy them - though Bitty would admit he did take a moment picking a pair that would match. The idea of dressing Parser up did something to him and no mistake.

Atop the dresser, Señor Bun caught his eye. After a brief internal debate, Bitty refrained from picking him up. _Third date. At **least**._ Casually, in the manner of a cool guy who hadn’t been considering taking his stuffed rabbit to the bed where his star hockey player date was waiting, he turned and walked over to Parse, then handed over the folded jammies and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

“There you go, hon.” 

“Thanks.”

A silly little pride bloomed in Bitty’s chest watching Parse put on what he’d picked out. He looked comfortable, and so handsome. Bitty snuggled up beside him and stole another kiss. 

Parse pulled him down and crawled under the covers with him, Bitty hitting the lights on the way. “Goodnight, Bits.”

“Goodnight, honey.” Bitty hadn’t really known if he’d be able to sleep cuddled up to another person - it sounded like the nicest thing in the world, but would he move around too much? Would he try too hard to stay still and have his arm fall asleep? - but being all snuggled up with Parse was so warm and comfortable, it was easy as pie to fall asleep. 

Parse woke him with a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Bits. I gotta get going.”

“Mm.” Bitty turned his head to kiss his lips. “I had a really nice time, Parser.”

“Me too.” Parse gave him one more peck before sliding out of bed to get dressed. 

Bitty hopped out of bed, meaning to get dressed, the realized with a pang he couldn’t exactly walk Parse downstairs and make him breakfast. So he sat back down and just enjoyed the show of Parse getting changed. 

“Hey,” Parse said, as he was buttoning his last button and smoothing down his shirt, “can I get your number?”

“Of course!” Bitty said, with possibly unbecoming enthusiasm. “Oh my goodness, where’d I put my phone? Oh Lord.”

“Here,” Parse laughed, handing Bitty his phone. “I’ll call you.”

“Oh, thanks.” Bitty typed his number in and hit call. His laundry hamper chimed. 

Once he’d fished his phone out of yesterday’s jeans and saved Parse’s number as the cutest cat emoji he could find, Bitty turned back to Parse. “How do you wanna do this, hon?”

“I’ll go down first.” Parse pulled him in for a kiss. “Want me to text when I’m clear, Bits?”

“Okay.” Bitty kissed him back. “Who you got next, hon?”

“Schooners.” Kiss. “Day after tomorrow.”

Kiss. “I’ll cheer for you.”

“‘Cause it’s not the Aeros?”

“Mm-hm.” They laughed together, leaning against each other. “You gotta go.”

“I do.” Parse gave him one more kiss from the road. “See ya, Bits.”

“Safe travels, honey.”

He watched Parse go, then crawled back into bed, taking his phone and Señor Bun with him. Bitty had almost dozed off when Parse texted that he was at his car. Good. Bitty wrote back, trying to balance affection and deniability and coming up with _thanks for telling me. You drive safe now_. He just hoped Jack hadn’t been downstairs to give Parse any trouble.


End file.
